In Vino Veritas
by Becky Tailweaver
Summary: In wine, there is Truth. Aoko Nakamori. Kaitou Kid. A dark bathroom. A little too much alcohol. A big mistake... Angsty, limeish, but otherwise safe...
1. Part 1

_Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing Gosho Aoyama's genius and taking the characters out to play. I don't own any of this, so don't sue me; you wouldn't get much more than a basket of laundry anyways. ^_^ Enjoy this weird bit of reading!_

  
  


**In Vino Veritas**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Part 1**

The great and mysterious Kaitou Kid would _never_ admit to being drunk. 

Nope, he wasn't drunk. No way, nuh-uh, nothing doing. So...maybe he was a little fuzzy around the edges, but he was walking a straight line without a problem--hell, he'd tightrope-walked the balcony railing with no difficulty whatsoever. And...maybe he felt a bit of a buzz, just a bit cloudy, his somewhat-muffled rational side telling him that his reactions were a shade off tonight...but not one cop had laid a hand on him and he'd not screwed up one single step of this heist. At least not 'til now. 

No, Kaitou Kid was _not drunk_. He would grudgingly allow himself to be described as "slightly tipsy," and nothing more than that. 

He normally would never have partaken in _anything_ alcoholic, especially not on a job, but Shirota-san, the man he was impersonating was...well...a rather heavy drinker, and when Inspector Nakamori himself had offered to buy him something he couldn't turn it down and stay in character. So...gritting his teeth and hoping his eyes didn't tear up, he accepted the drink--awful-tasting stuff. Just one drink--whatever the hell that stuff was--and no more. He didn't even finish all of it before the heist got moving and he could finally put the damned thing down. But...three-quarters was enough. 

_Damn Shirota-san. Just **had** to be drinking buddies with **Nakamori**. Now why the hell didn't I know that?_

_Damn_. And because he was--not _drunk_, blast it, just a bit _off!_--he'd screwed up his escape time and missed the window of opportunity to take the stairwell to the roof and book it. And now they were chasing him _downwards_, toward the basement, where he was going to end up _cornered_. 

That fuzzy feeling was getting stronger, too. Shit. 

_What the hell **was** that drink, anyway? I can just see the headlines: "Kaitou Kid Caught By Police Inspector Who Got Him Plastered." Whoopee._

He was back on the floor the party had been going on--the one in which the jewel he sought was worn by Shirota-san's wife and it would have been prime opportunity to snatch it if Nakamori hadn't dragged him off to the bar. Set his timetable back a good twenty minutes, too. The party hall was back that way and he didn't want to chance a sloppy disguise among that many already-panicked people, so maybe he could go down the _other_ way and find a window that _wasn't_ solid plexiglass to make his escape. 

Dammit! There were more cops coming in from the third corridor! He ducked back and headed left instead of right, taking off at a full run rather than his usual smooth jog. So the drink made him overreact a bit--so what? All he had to do was find an open door and _hide_ for a while, maybe get his head on straight and get _out_ of this place. 

_Why can't I remember how to get to the stairs?_

Oh great. Navigational system was apparently overloaded by that one itty bitty drink of alcoholic beverage. Stupid sissy internal compass anyway. Well, he could get by without it. He was Kaitou Kid, after all. 

The next few doors he tried were all locked. He didn't have time to try anything with them, not with the squad of pissed-off policemen heading in his direction. 

However, when he grabbed at the handle of the fifth door and threw his weight against it, he was surprised when it gave way smoothly and dumped him inside. He barely kept his feet, stumbling against the wall. 

The wall felt like cool tile. The only illumination came from under the door, and from the faint silvery moonlight falling in from the high, narrow windows along the wall near the ceiling. He let his eyes adjust to the lack of lighting in this room, not daring to reach for a switch... 

And found himself in a restroom. 

Great. Not so bad--he could splash some cold water on his face, take a breather, and be out of here before anyone-- 

In the dimness, a toilet in one of the stalls flushed noisily, making him jump a foot in the air. He stood there in shock for a second as the person emerged, staring rather stupidly; the footsteps emerging from the stall didn't _sound_ like a man's... 

_This had better not be the women's restroom._

Had he not been..._slightly tipsy_, he might've reacted more quickly--exiting the restroom, or at the very least getting himself out of sight. As it was, the person who stepped out of the stall saw him and started badly, almost falling over themselves at the sight of him standing in the shadows by the door. 

His brain registered a _dress_--a short one too--and long hair, and dimly, pale features and wide eyes. A female. Just great. 

_Oh please don't--!_

She opened her mouth and took a deep breath--and this time his reaction was a _lot_ faster. He was across the room in one leap with his hand clamped over her mouth and her back pressed to the wall near the sinks before she could make a sound. 

_--scream..._

He was breathing rather hard--maybe it was because of all this blasted _fuzziness_, making what was left of his rational side panicky because he _knew_ he could screw up badly right now. And to be blunt, he just _had_--grabbing a tiger by the tail and trapping himself as effectively as he had her. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," was the first thing he whispered, keeping his voice as low and steady as he possibly could. 

The muffled noise from his captive didn't quite sound like the whimper he'd been expecting. He couldn't quite make out her face, even this close; he could see the contrast of her hair against her skin, the shadow of her eyes, but not much more. 

"I can take my hand off your mouth, but you've got to promise not to scream," he spoke again. His rational side told him that was a rather stupid thing to say, but he couldn't quite hear it. He _could_ feel the woman/girl/female nod. Slowly, he brought his hand down--and almost to his surprise, she remained silent. 

For a few moments, that is. 

"Kaitou Kid...what are you doing in the bathroom?" 

The voice was sort of sluggish, slightly slurred, but the tones were angry and inquiring and he couldn't help recognizing them--with a sinking feeling of utter shock and horror. 

_Oh...shit. **Aoko?**_

Kaito barely kept from blurting her name. "Wha...what are _you_ doing here?" was the best he managed. 

"Usin' the toilet, what else?" Aoko replied, sounding indignant and annoyed. 

  
_To be continued..._


	2. Part 2

_Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing Gosho Aoyama's genius and taking the characters out to play. I don't own any of this, so don't sue me; you wouldn't get much more than a basket of laundry anyways. ^_^ Enjoy this weird bit of reading!_

  
  


**In Vino Veritas**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Part 2**

Aoko had been badly frightened to step out of the bathroom stall to find a pale-clothed figure standing like a ghost in the doorway. Somehow, through the blurriness and the haze, she recognized the white suit and the top hat, and realized who had invaded her restroom. 

Kaitou Kid. Who had promptly pounced on her before she could scream. And was now acting surprised to find anyone in a dark bathroom. 

_I actually surprised him. I actually got the jump on Kaitou Kid!_

For some reason, though it was a rather silly idea, she found it really funny. And the only reason the bathroom was dark was that she couldn't find a lightswitch for it and was too desperate to stand around looking. Maybe she shouldn't have had so many of those drinks, if she'd known she would have to go so badly. But they were pretty good, and they were fruity-tasting, which she liked. But around about the...third?...she'd started feeling sorta blurry. One more hadn't hurt, but she _did_ have to go to the bathroom. 

"What's the daughter of the great Inspector Nakamori doing at a party where Kaitou Kid is expected?" asked her captor, his voice low. 

She was giggling. She didn't know why, but the whole situation was remarkably funny. "Was gonna chase you away," she replied. "You're a baka. An' I hate you." 

The Kid leaned a little bit closer. "Are you _drunk?_" 

"Nooo..." She shot him a glare. "Why would I be drunk?" 

A sigh. "You're drunk. Hasn't your father been keeping an eye on you?" 

She humphed indignantly. "I'm eighteen, you jerk. Old enough to take care of myself. I don't need anybody keepin' eyes on me." 

"Baka..." 

The oddly familiar way he said it gave her an incredible urge to _hit_ him. "_You're_ the baka," she shot back, disliking how cold the wall was against her back for so long. "Doncha know my dad's gonna catch you?" 

"Oh, really?" 

God, how did he keep doing that with his voice? It was so low and almost husky, and as close as she was she could almost feel it, too. She still couldn't see his face in the shadows, obscured by that monocle, but the dusky tone of his voice was _soooo_... 

_So **something**, and I can't remember the word for it..._

"So far, I don't think your father could even catch a cold, much less a legendary...phantom..." 

He trailed off when she brought her arms up around his neck rather abruptly, suddenly smiling smugly as she spoke through laughter. "Fine, jerk, how 'bout _I_ catch you instead? Dad'd be prouda me." 

She could see enough to see his jaw falling open, his mouth moving silently. His arm, which had previously pushed her back against the cold tiles, fell loose and it almost seemed that he was going to back away from her. "No ya don't, I caught you..." 

He pulled away and she went with him, holding on tight, suddenly pressed against him. She noted how tall he was, just right for her arms to link around his neck...and how broad his shoulders were, and how she could feel his muscles shifting and tensing... 

"Uh...ah...A..." 

_The great and mysterious Kaitou Kid,_ she thought, feeling a strange sense of giddiness. _An' I've got him cornered right here. A thousand cops an' my dad combined could never catch him, but here he is right in my hands. I got him._

"Whatsa matter, Kaitou Kid?" she giggled. "I thought you were some great eksape...espake..._escape_ artist or somethin'." 

His gulp was audible, but still he didn't reach to pry her off of him. 

"C'mon, try to get away. I _dare_ ya." Her voice was almost serious now. "You're this great thief and everyone loves you--they all cheer for you so you win every time and make my dad look stupid, and you do whatever you want without caring 'bout _anybody_ else. Can'tcha get away from me?" Some part of her was aware that she was rambling into the face of a perfect stranger--not to mention bodily clinging to him--and was properly scandalized, but that part was muffled completely by a blurry haze. She didn't care at this point--what _did_ matter was that the famed phantom thief was at her mercy. 

_And I'm gonna make him pay._

"Why aren'tcha runnin', jerk?" she railed, her voice getting a bit louder, the giggles gone, full of anger and biting sarcasm. "You're Kaitou Kid. Everybody loves you an' you always win an' nobody beats you, 'cause you're so _perfect_, an' strong an' smart an' amazing every time I see you, an' not even a whole city of cops ever catches you and nobody can ever ever even touch you, not _anybody_..." 

That muffled, rational part of her was also aware that she had accosted a very, _very_ dangerous man--a phantom thief that the entire police force together hated and feared and longed to capture. Somewhere during her rant _she_ became aware that this unbeatable demon was currently in a state of captivity--by _her_ of all people. Trapped by a teenage girl in a darkened bathroom. 

There he was, right in front of her--literally within her grasp. The uncatchable had been caught; the untouchable trembled under her touch. She was holding a legend in her hands--a man who had never been snared by any mortal grasp...except perhaps her own. A being named Kaitou Kid, who was just that side of extraordinary--who she hated more than anything because he was so confusing and mystical and uncatchable and completely _infuriating_...just like someone she knew... 

There was the exhilaration of doing the impossible--of having laid hands on this elusive phantom. There was giddiness at the new power she felt, the inexplicable confidence. There was the warmth of something strangely comforting and familiar that she couldn't define--yet the flip side of it pulled her to him with the heated thrill of the forbidden. 

"...but _I_ caught you..." 

And she kissed him. 

  
_To be continued..._

  
_Oh, you're so beautiful,   
With an edge and a charm,   
But so careful   
When I'm in your arms._   
--Sarah Mclachlan, "Building A Mystery" 


	3. Part 3

_Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing Gosho Aoyama's genius and taking the characters out to play. I don't own any of this, so don't sue me; you wouldn't get much more than a basket of laundry anyways. ^_^ Enjoy this weird bit of reading!_

  
  


**In Vino Veritas**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Part 3**

His own intoxicated state not helping in the least, Kaito's brain went into hard reboot when Aoko lurched forward to press her lips to his. It promptly failed to come back online, resulting in a full processing system crash. _Aoko_--his fiery, temperamental, unromantic, chase-him-with-a-mop Aoko--was kissing him full on the mouth without an iota of hesitation. The automatic circuits kicked on at about that time, assisted by the alcohol, and his response was involuntary--perhaps even instinctive. 

**Kiss her back, fool!**

So he did. His arms went around her like they had a will of their own--which they probably did at this point--and pulled her even closer against him, if that were possible. He might never have reacted that way had he not been hazy from that drink, but with _just_ enough to get him over the hurdle of inhibition, he gave in to the urge and went with it; something in the back of his mind--something he'd always ignored and fought down and shoved aside--told him that he'd been wanting to do this for a very long time. 

Her fervent reaction to his intially tentative response made him want to go even deeper, and her soft, low moan made something hot spin through him. The way she seemed to welcome him--opening to him and drawing him in like the pull of a whirlpool--only excited him more, flooding him with the shaky tingle of adrenaline and an incredible sense of _need_. One kiss turned into many kisses melded into one, no longer anything like tentative; his hands spread across her shoulders and descended, finding the open back of her dress--_When did she start wearing things like this?_--and as he roamed lower he wished to high heaven he wasn't wearing those dratted gloves. 

The still-rational part of him realized he wasn't supposed to be doing this--that this was absolutely insane and he was on a heist right then and this was _Aoko_ for crying out loud. That part tried to warn him, but the rest of him--being perfectly happy that this was Aoko--objected to that idea and ignored it. He didn't care if this was something he never would have done on his own--it was happening now and he was helplessly caught up in it. _Willingly_ caught up in it. 

Her hands drifted, always clinging tight yet somehow so soft, running across his shoulders, his neck, through his hair--putting him at the risk of losing his hat and if she recognized him he was _dead_ but it just didn't matter anymore--and he almost couldn't believe that this was _Aoko_, but he _knew_ it was her; she smelled and felt and tasted like Aoko, nothing but Aoko filling all his senses. 

He'd never thought anything like this was possible. He didn't know her touch would make him feel this way. He didn't realize her kiss could do this to him. He could feel her hands, her lips, her warmth, every soft line and curve of her; all he knew was Aoko and all he wanted was _more_--this was going somewhere he'd never been before but it was gonna be one hell of a ride, and they were both eyes wide shut and rushing full speed into the center of it all... 

...and she was leaning back against the sinks and her hand in his hair made his hat fall off and oh shit he could hear men's voices and that meant someone was coming and if anybody found them like this he was gonna get _shot_ not just arrested 'cause he was the _Kid_ not Kaito and besides she was drunk and he shouldn't be doing this when she didn't know what she was doing because his Aoko would _never_ kiss the Kid and it would hurt her when she was sober again and goddamn his stupid drunken brain for letting him-- 

The mask of Kid once more reasserted itself over Kaito. He wanted nothing more than to stay right where he was--but somehow he found the strength to _stop_. 

It was harder than he'd thought--so much harder, and not just because of her arms around him. On the contrary--she hadn't been expecting him to leave so soon, so her grasp was broken the moment he moved back. What made it most difficult was the invisible, intangible pull Aoko seemed to exert on him, something that was almost a physical sensation, as if she were magnetized and drawing him to her. He couldn't understand how it could be so strong. 

Then there was the fiery swirl that pounded through his own blood, completely new and strange to him--welcome and unwelcome, frightening and thrilling--as clear and unmistakable as the moon on a crystal night, as hot and powerful as the sun on a summer's day. It almost _hurt_ not to go back to her. 

_**Shit**. I've got to get out of here before I do something **really** stupid._

Throat dry, breaths coming deep and ragged, he stepped back from her, just barely managing to snatch up his hat. _Gotta go--if they catch us it'll give Nakamori-san a reason to **kill** me instead of just chasing me around..._

She didn't move--she was still sitting against the sink counter, perfectly still, her head lowered. "Jerk..." she muttered, and he almost couldn't hear her. "I _caught_ you..." 

They both jumped when they heard the next door slam, the sounds of policemens' voices indicating that they were doing a room-by-room search of the general area he'd last been seen. 

Damn. And he didn't want to leave Aoko like this--drunk and alone in a darkened bathroom to be found in such a state by a bunch of cops from her father's squad... 

But they were coming, and even if Kaito wanted to stay, the Kaitou Kid could not be caught. So he had to run. _Damn_ that miserable fact, but he had to run. 

"Sorry for the intrusion, miss," he said in as even a voice as he could muster. "Perhaps we'll meet again." 

She twitched, and he wondered if she was crying. "I hate you. I hope Dad locks you up and throws away the key." 

She _was_ crying, he could hear it in her voice. He didn't say anything more, but as the handle of the bathroom door began to click, he dove for the wall and leaped, cursing the muzziness that made him stumble. He yanked back the high, small bathroom window and squeezed through it, the cops opening the door behind barely catching a glimpse of the edge of his cape. 

By then he was diving off the ledge outside, activating his hang-glider and praying that the problems with driving while drunk wouldn't get him killed. He just wanted to make it home in one piece to sleep off this whole unbelievable incident--and the entire way, his mind was filled with Aoko. 

  
The bathroom was now flooded with lights and concerned officers. Still sitting against the sinks, arms wrapped tight around herself, Aoko cried silent tears and refused to respond to anyone. 

  
_To be continued..._


	4. Part 4

_Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing Gosho Aoyama's genius and taking the characters out to play. I don't own any of this, so don't sue me; you wouldn't get much more than a basket of laundry anyways. ^_^ Enjoy this weird bit of reading!_

  
  


**In Vino Veritas**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Part 4**

Aoko Nakamori felt _awful_. 

Worse than awful--downright _sick_. And it wasn't just the symptoms of hangover; even though she'd been two periods late for school and was doped up on aspirin, she still felt like utter crap. A hundred times worse than the nausea and headache that morning--which she could still feel beneath the thick coating of drugs--was the knowledge of what she had done last night. 

What would her father think of her? He was already upset that she'd been drunk--even though she hadn't known what she'd been drinking. If he ever found out she'd been playing serious tonsil hockey--even inebriated--with his worst nemesis, he'd never forgive her. He'd be _beyond_ disappointed. 

God, she felt like a tramp. 

She could hardly look at anyone--not any of her friends, nor her teachers, feeling sure that her guilt was written all over her face. It was still fresh, the memories and sensations running again and again through her mind until she couldn't bear it any longer. 

She especially couldn't meet Kaito's eyes. Not even when he spoke to her. Whenever she looked at him, his blue gaze seemed to pierce into her--and what she had done last night felt somehow like a betrayal, though she couldn't understand why. 

No one else had seen what she'd done, thank goodness...and she would never, _ever_ tell a soul. She could only pray that Kaitou Kid didn't see fit to mention it to her father during any of his next heists, even in jest. But it shouldn't matter to him--he was at least twice her age and could probably have any woman he wanted if the screaming fangirls were any indication. He hadn't cared--just said "Sorry for the inconvenience," and left. She felt so _stupid_. 

Why had she _brainlessly_ taken those idiotic fruity drinks? _Why_ had the Kid decided to hide in _that_ particular bathroom? And why, oh _why_ had she decided to _kiss_ him? 

_Him_. Kaitou Kid. The person her father had been trying to catch since before she was born--the man she hated for getting away with so much wrong, for taking her father away from her so much, for being so completely unbeatable for so long that it was just _impossible_. The one who had somehow been at the center of her life and the lives of her friends and family ever since he'd returned from obscurity. Everything about him spoke to something deep inside her--something familiar and precious and _yearning_ to be recognized--and suddenly, with him in her grasp, all her emotions had a focus. 

She couldn't remember exactly why she'd done it. It had started with realizing that she had caught the Kid--her arms were around him, holding him. It was the excitement of doing the impossible, combined with the boldness she felt from the alcohol. Her kiss had been a spur-of-the-moment thing--a fluke, a strange, fiery impulse. It was supposed to be short, perhaps just to startle him. 

But _she_ had been the one taken by surprise when he responded, and with such fervor that it had shocked her--to think he was actively participating, not pushing her away... 

What had begun as a little joke became a hot, open-mouthed kiss filled with more depth and ardor than she'd ever thought humanly possible. She'd caught the scent of the stars and the wind, his sweat, something sweet--caught the taste of something minty, the freshness of the night sky, and something almost like what she'd been drinking. She became wrapped up in him--_So this is what **magic** feels like_--and she hadn't been able to stop what she'd started, borne onward into the flood of it, an inexhorable feeling with all the force of an avalanche. She could remember the exhilaration she felt as her thoughts turned from shock to excitement, realizing that she had not only caught hold of him, but could incite his ardor as well--a realization of female power that only made her pull him closer. 

She had captured the Kid. She had done what no one else had ever done--she had snared the mystical thief and actually managed to hold on to him. And she wasn't stupid enough to think it was all _her_ doing; he wouldn't have kissed her if he hadn't wanted to--not like that, not pulling her into him and drinking her up like a dying man in a desert. He had _wanted_ her, and she had known that somehow; he was caught because he did not run from her--held because he wished to be held, kissing her like there was no tomorrow because that was what _he desired_. 

She had lost herself in it--in the heat and the strength of him, in the passion that drew her deeper like an ocean's undertow, in the sheer feminine thrill of holding the attention of so enigmatic and dangerous a man. 

For those blurred, drunken moments, she forgot that she hated him--forgot it so completely that she even began to think of how incredible it was that this amazing, impossible, untouchable phantom had allowed himself to be trapped by a silly, nameless young woman like her. A wild white tiger consenting to be led by a little girl. 

And even though she knew all about him--his whole reputation, the fact that the cops could never catch him, how powerful he had to be to do what he did--she wasn't afraid. He felt _safe_ in a way she couldn't explain, and she didn't fear him at all. She forgot that she hated him--so much that in her drunken mind, that hate had begun to twist into a strange admiration. For an instant, almost an inexplicable, passion-induced _adoration_ of what he was and what he could do. 

It wasn't until he had pulled away--restoring a small measure of reality as they both heard what was going on outside the bathroom--that she had begun to realize what she'd been doing. She remembered who and where she was--remembered who _he_ was--and her emotions crashed into a tangle. Her hate returned, but it was painful this time--what right had she to hate him when she'd so willingly given herself to him? But she could only hate him _more_ for being what he was, for making her feel that way. 

Aoko felt _miserable_. And she knew it was going to be a long while before she stopped feeling so guilty and loathesome. Perhaps, with time, she could eventually forgive herself, remembering that she'd been very drunk at the time and not in control--but right now she couldn't stop thinking about it, every memory as fresh as if it had happened moments ago. 

God, she _hated_ Kaitou Kid. She _never_ wanted to go near another one of his heists, not for any reason. She couldn't risk such a thing. 

Because she didn't know what could happen if she caught him again. 

  
_To be continued..._


	5. Part 5

_Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing Gosho Aoyama's genius and taking the characters out to play. I don't own any of this, so don't sue me; you wouldn't get much more than a basket of laundry anyways. ^_^ Enjoy this weird bit of reading!_

  
  


**In Vino Veritas**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Part 5**

Akako Koizumi's comment that his aura looked "_very_ interesting today" had not helped his morning off to a good start. 

It also did not help that his insides would start doing giddy flip-flops and some silly little thing inside his head would start jumping up and down whenever he thought about getting kissed. Which was very, very often--he couldn't put it out of his mind. But the other side of the coin was that whenever he thought about getting kissed, he thought about Aoko--and whenever he thought about Aoko, he thought about the way she sat there in her desk so lifelessly... 

In the desk next to Aoko's, Kaito tried not to fidget, tried not to look at her, and tried not to worry about her. He'd known exactly the reason she was late this morning, no matter what excuses her father had called in with. Though when she did show up, the silence had unnerved him--she barely even said "hi" to him, wouldn't even look at him--and he couldn't help but sense how upset she was. 

_Dammit, I knew it was gonna hurt her..._

He gave himself another firm mental kick for letting it get out of control. He would _not_ let one unfinished drink be his excuse; he should have stopped her before it got out of hand--he should have stayed on top of his own emotions and kept her from hurting herself by doing what she did. _He_ was the one to blame for this--she'd been _way_ more inebriated than him, he could tell, and he should have been responsible enough to _stop_ before it turned into a who-knows-how-many-minutes-long makeout session with a girl he knew for a fact _hated_ his other identity. 

Though...the idea that she could so willingly embrace the Kid--even drunk--was somehow disturbing. It made him feel...strangely _jealous_. She'd been kissing the mask, when _he_ wanted to be the one-- 

_I'm not gonna finish that thought._

He glanced at her again as the teacher droned on obliviously, catching the shadows in her eyes and wincing inwardly. He'd woken up with a good headache himself, and hadn't been nearly as bad as she was last night--he could hardly imagine how sick she'd been this morning. Not to mention she was probably disgusted with herself for throwing herself at a stranger--Kaitou Kid, no less. But with alcohol drowning her inhibitions, she had spoken what she really felt--and had reacted to him with such zeal that he couldn't help but be drawn in... 

Swallowing hard, he immediately directed his eyes back to the book in front of him, hoping his face wasn't going red. Every time he looked at her his mind would yank him back to the previous evening--the feel of her body against him, the heat of her lips on his--and he feared that his desire for more of the same would show in his eyes. He'd had a hard time getting to sleep last night, with the memory of her tingling all across his skin...and he'd fought off dreams of that dark bathroom, letting his slumbers turn to nightmares of being caught by Nakamori rather than risk entering that doorway again--no matter how much part of him wanted to go back in there and finish what he'd started-- 

_I am **not** going to finish that thought either._

With the clarity that morning brought, he'd realized what a tremendous risk it had been. The two of them, drunk and alone and with the way she had broken through his defenses like that... Any time he thought about where that could've gone, a quickening tingle would skitter through his belly. If they had been in a hotel instead of a business, or in an office instead of a cold dark bathroom--aw, hell, even if the cops hadn't interrupted... 

_I wasn't as drunk as she was, but I was sloshed enough I might've done something **way** more than stupid...shit, and in the state she was in she might have just **let** me-- _

I am **not** going to finish **that** thought. **Never**. 

This was not like him at all; frustrated, Kaito buried his nose in his book. The might-have-been was too terrifying to contemplate...yet his brain would continually spin in little hamster-circles and drag him back to the same perverted little teenage thoughts over and over. _Stupid_ hormones--and stupid _him_ for giving them fuel for the fire; stupid stupid _stupid_ him for letting Aoko make a fool of herself. It was all _his_ fault she felt like this, and he couldn't even keep his thoughts away from what he wanted--when he really should be thinking about what _she_ needed. 

He couldn't believe that one drunken kiss had the power to turn him into some kind of addict--so much that he couldn't even stop thinking about her. Even as horribly guilty as he felt, he caught himself drifting into the memory of her kiss again and again, wishing he could touch her once more. The feeling was almost frightening in its intensity; he'd never craved anything like this before. 

Perhaps this was why he'd subconsciously resisted the concept for so long--his heart of hearts knew how he felt about Aoko, and the moment he let himself break that wall was the moment he'd never be able to resist her again. 

And _she_ hadn't resisted, not any of it; she hadn't hauled back and clocked him a good one for touching her, hadn't shrieked at him for presuming to hold her. The way she had accepted him--even the way the insistent press of her lips wordlessly demanded more--had set free something that before now he'd kept locked away in the back of his mind. Something that he'd ruthlessly stomped on for the longest time, from the instant he'd realized what it was, because it was something that he'd thought would drive her away from him. 

But with the way she had kissed him last night, he'd begun to doubt that Aoko was as untouchable as he'd always thought. He'd never known that she could provoke such feelings in him--with just a kiss, she made fireworks inside him. Dancing butterflies of nerves and tidal waves of emotion. And she'd blown him away with the power of her kiss--she could be as passionate as she was fiery, and he'd never realized how deep into the heart of the flames he could go... 

_Ack--you moron, don't think about **that**. Do not think at all. Just listen to Sensei and don't look at Aoko._

Fat lot of good that did. 

He just kept thinking about her--and the more he thought about her the worse he felt, because he knew she felt even more awful than he did. She didn't know the whole truth, _couldn't_ know the whole truth, and there was nothing he could do to ease the pain of her shattered feelings. 

  
_To be continued..._


	6. Part 6

_Disclaimer: As usual, I'm just borrowing Gosho Aoyama's genius and taking the characters out to play. I don't own any of this, so don't sue me; you wouldn't get much more than a basket of laundry anyways. ^_^ Enjoy this weird bit of reading!_

  
  


**In Vino Veritas**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Part 6**

During lunchtime, Aoko just wanted to be by herself. It didn't help that Kaito had gone all quiet and concerned over her--he did that often enough when he seemed to realize something was wrong--because it just made her feel worse. Guiltier. He was worried about her and it was because of something so stupid and horrible and mortifying and _all her fault_. 

She wanted to be alone. The only good place she knew of was the roof, where almost nobody went because there was nothing up there. Which was just _fine_ with her; she was perfectly content to be all by herself while trying not to think about last night. 

The only problem was that Kaito wouldn't stop following her. He traced her footsteps all the way to the roof, still as silent as ever--and for some reason that unnerved her, because he was never this quiet--and staying just a few feet behind her. She stopped just outside the roof access door, hands fisted at her sides; if she was going to wallow in misery, she wanted to do it in _private_. 

"What do you want?" she finally demanded in a low voice, not looking at him--she couldn't bear to look at him. "Leave me alone!" 

She could hear him push the door shut behind him. "C'mon, what'sa matter, Aoko? You've been mad all morning--did I do something yesterday?" 

"_No_." It wasn't his fault, it was _hers_. She didn't want him to be apologetic for something he didn't do. "It's got nothing to do with you." 

"Yeah, but..." There was the slightest hesitation in his voice. "It's still got _you_ upset, right? Doesn't that mean it's got something to do with me?" 

"It's none of your business." She didn't have the heart to chase him. Not when she felt like this. "It's really nothing. I was just really sick this morning." 

"Huh..." She heard the rustle of his clothes as he moved, the scrape of a tennis shoe. "And here I thought it was somethin' _serious_. I had a headache the size of Fuji this morning, and you don't see _me_ throwing a fit all over the place. Sissy." 

The mocking tone of his voice snapped something loose in her, and she whirled at him with all the fury that she usually put behind a mop. "You shut up! _You_ didn't get drunk and kiss a wanted _criminal--!_" 

She was looking straight at him when she realized what she was saying--snapping her jaw shut quickly, but not quickly enough. She saw the flicker in his eyes and felt her heart shatter to pieces, clapping a hand over her mouth and turning away again so she wouldn't have to look at him. 

There was a long silence. "You kissed somebody?" he asked, oddly quiet. 

"Shut up." 

"Hey...you said you were drunk, right?" he went on as if trying to cheer her up, though she could barely make out a faint tremor in his voice. "Everybody does stupid things when they're drunk. It doesn't really count..." 

"Just _shut up!_" she cried. "You have no idea!" 

"Then tell me," he said, and she jumped because he was _right behind her_ and she hadn't even heard him move. 

"If it had been anybody else..." she said hoarsely. "Anybody else...wouldn't be so awful..." She swallowed. "I can't tell you. You'll laugh at me. You'll think I'm _stupid_--" 

"I already think you're stupid, baka," he drawled, stepping around in front of her, trying to catch her eyes. "Just telling me what happened isn't going to change my opinion." 

"You jerk!" Her eyes flashed up at him, angry, and he suddenly grinned. 

"_There's_ my Aoko again! You're more like yourself when you're mad, y'know." 

Taken aback, she stared at him, feeling a flush heat her cheeks. _**My** Aoko...?_

"So who's this 'wanted criminal' you kissed, anyway?" he went on cheerfully. "Don't tell me you got into your dad's stash down at his office and started flirting with the--" 

"It's nothing _like_ that, you baka!" she all but shrieked, flushing beet red. "It wasn't some thug off the street! It was _Kaitou Kid!_" 

She quailed the instant she realized she'd just blurted everything out again. Real smooth--and she hadn't wanted to let _anyone_ know about her "little indiscretion." 

Kaito's eyes were rather large for a moment, but he quickly recovered and grinned at her. "Well, at least I know you've got good taste, Aoko." 

She couldn't decide if she wanted to hit him or just go jump off the roof. Instead, she settled for starting to cry--and even though she fought it with everything she had, she couldn't stop the tears from coming up. "You...you...you _insensitive baka...!_" 

She didn't expect his grin to disappear so quickly at the sight of her tears. "Hey, I--I didn't mean it like that--I just thought...I mean I didn't...aw _hell_..." 

"You don't even care that I made a total _idiot_ of myself." She could only stand there and let the tears roll down her cheeks, unable to look up at him. "With my father's worst enemy." 

Kaito's voice was just a bit hoarse too. "I...I'm sure the Kid doesn't think you're an idiot. You were drunk--" 

She only flinched. "It's not as if I didn't know who he was. I knew, and I still did it. _Me_, not him. I just...wanted to." 

He was very quiet for a long time--so long that she began to wonder what was wrong with him. "Why?" 

_I'm just supposed to know **why**--just like that?_

Feeling stricken, Aoko turned away again, drifting closer to the wall. "I don't know! I just don't know...!" She began to cry harder, and Kaito looked even more worried and miserable than before, as the words poured out of her between gulps and sobs. "It's so _stupid_--I was so _mad_ at him because he's so much _more_ than anyone else--he always gets away, he can't ever be caught--but I caught him last night and I can't believe how _stupid_ that sounds now... I can't even explain it--he's so..._infuriating_ and..." She couldn't read his face any more--it had gone closed-up in a way she'd never seen. He stepped closer to her, and she wished she could retreat but the wall was in the way. 

"If you hate him so much," Kaito said, his voice very soft and very low, "why did you kiss him?" 

"I told you _I don't know_," she husked. "I was just gonna _catch_ him first--I only grabbed him. But then...then I felt..." 

"A pull." 

"Yeah. Something like...that..." She glanced at him, slightly startled that he hadn't _asked_--only stated as if it were fact. That small surprise helped her swallow a gulp of tears, and she took a shaky breath. "I think it was because he makes me mad almost like you do--I can't ever catch _you_ either..." 

He was just looking at her, steadily, and she reddened as she realized how her words had sounded. "I just wanted to do it because I thought no one else could," she blurted suddenly, even startling herself. "And he let me do it. He could've gotten away but he _didn't_--and--and..." _And it was like I knew him somehow--familiar, like someone I met in a dream... He felt...dangerous...but **safe** to me...the whole time, I wasn't afraid--not until he left..._

Kaito still wasn't saying anything, and it was unnerving her. 

"Go ahead and laugh," she finally said, unable to meet his gaze any more. "I'm an idiot. I got completely sloshed and kissed the Kid in the women's bathroom. And now if anybody finds out they'll think I'm a complete tramp and my dad'll never forgive me and I already feel like the scum of the earth because I just...I just wish...it had been _anybody_ but _him...!_" 

"_Anybody_ but him?" 

"_Yes!_" she cried. "I could stand it if only I didn't make such a complete fool and hypocrite out of myself--" 

"I told you, baka," he said roughly, interrupting her. "The way things were last night, one little kiss doesn't mean anything. Nobody's gonna hold something like that over your head--least of all the Kid. _He_ was the one being a royal rat bastard if he didn't stop you in the first place--and you were drunk, so it doesn't count if you don't want it to." 

"'_Doesn't count?_'" she railed. "You can say that so easily--you didn't give your first kiss to an international criminal--!" 

Kaito's eyes _flashed_. He moved so abruptly that she cut off with a gasp--and she was suddenly pinned against the wall behind her, trapped in a manner so familiar that flashbacks of the night before spun through her mind in an instant of panic. He snared one of her arms before she could move; her other hand latched into his sleeve at the shoulder, but there was such sudden strength in him that she couldn't budge him--and though it had all happened so fast and so jarringly she was never hurt, not even a bump. She stared up at him in shock, startled at his closeness and the look in his eyes, but somehow _still_ unable to be really _afraid_ of him. 

Then he kissed her. 

Everything flew out of her mind when he pressed his mouth to hers, hard and assertive and almost _angry_. She thought she could taste something almost minty, but before she could capture it he was gone, drawing back just far enough to look directly at her, all but _glaring_. 

"There," he said, rough and just above a whisper. "_That_ one counts." 

Under normal circumstances, she would have clobbered him--but she could hardly breathe. Under normal circumstances, she would have thrown him across the roof and gone for her mop--but even when she'd pushed with all her strength against him, he hadn't moved an inch. It was even more of a shock than when he'd trapped her against the wall--because she hadn't been expecting _anything_ like this. Not from _Kaito_. 

He'd been her best friend for so long that she had, on some level, _forgotten_ that he was male. He was someone so comfortable and familiar to her that the particular element of caution which she always felt around others of his gender had all but disappeared with him, save for habitual responses when he flipped her skirt or insulted her figure. After all, he wasn't a boy--he was _Kaito_, right? He would never hurt her--not the way other males might. 

But he had just _kissed_ her--and that changed _everything_. 

So close to him now, with his breath tickling her face and his nose mere inches from her own, she was suddenly realizing just what a _boy_ he was--quickly becoming aware of his greater height, the bolder features of his face, the width of his shoulders, the deeper resonance of his voice, the lean, solid strength of the muscle under her hand...all the things that made _masculine_ different from _feminine_--things that left her feeling suddenly more vulnerable than she'd ever felt before. 

Not afraid--_never_ afraid, with him--but strangely defenseless now that she'd realized that he was a _boy_ and she was a _girl_ and he'd just _kissed_ her. He was not the lifelong best friend that she could chase with a mop; he was Kaito Kuroba, the boy who had kissed her, the boy who--and the thought made her heartbeat quicken--maybe..._liked_ her...? 

"Kaito...?" Her voice was barely a whisper of a quaver. Maybe she was a _little_ afraid--not of _him_, but of what it could mean. Of what might be changing. Of the memories his touch invoked in her. 

His brows lowered just a bit. "You were drunk last night--so the kiss with Kid doesn't count. _Mine does_." 

A tingly warmth spread from her stomach all the way up to her suddenly-pounding heart; the way he said the last part, the tone of his voice--commanding, even _posessive_, as if he was making his own kiss her first by his will alone. As if he was stealing her first kiss back from the Kid himself, because he didn't want anyone else to have it... 

The thought that he cared about her so much that he would make this leap, would risk so much, would claim her kiss...it made gratitude and affection well up like a spring inside her, as she remembered how dear to her he was--how much she really _loved_ him, forever and ever as long as she could remember, and it made her heart skip and sing to think that he would like her _that way_, and even though it seemed so new and startling it felt like she'd been waiting an eternity to know that he might love her too... 

She stared at him, her blushing cheeks even brighter against the paleness of her face, as she realized he was trying to make her forget what she'd done last night--trying to somehow erase her guilt and shame and humiliation. As if he could simply make it _not_ be, like a disappearing rabbit from one of his magic tricks. 

Knowing how he felt about her, even if she was only just beginning to understand it...it just made the horrible feeling inside her even worse. What she'd done last night--it _was_ a betrayal, even if she hadn't known it then. If only she'd waited one more day--oh God, only a few more dark hours of a night--then she could have given her first kiss to this precious, caring, _wonderful_ young man who was her best friend and something _more_... 

She realized she was still crying--tears pouring down her cheeks like mountain streams. "You...you can't just...make it go away..." 

"Why not?" His jaw tightened and his arm tensed. "That stupid kiss in the bathroom doesn't matter. Just forget it!" 

She gulped out a sob. "I'm not...I can't...!" 

"_Dammit_, Aoko--!" 

She barely had time for a breath before the arm that held her to the wall had pulled her to him, and he was holding her tight against him--kissing her _again_, and it was different this time. It wasn't angry any more, but desperate, demanding, and she couldn't resist the force of it, clinging to him with all the strength that was left in her. 

He was kissing her with all that he was; all of _Kaito_, sweet and wild and magical, and suffused with something so raw that she could almost palpably feel its _hurt_--something so long-hidden that she could only now begin to glimpse it as he revealed it to her, and she tried to wonder why she'd never realized how _much_ in him there was, such depth that she had never seen... 

_I know this--_

It was like an old love song, like a long-lost friend; intensely _familiar_, like the beat of his heart against her own--_in time_ with her own. She knew the heat of his body and the strength of his arms, she knew the rhythm of his kiss like she knew the blue of his eyes; he pressed and she knew what he wanted, opening her lips to him, and it was like a dance in which she already knew the steps, and knowing it made her want to go further, to carry it beyond even the last notes of the song. Strangely, none of this was _new_...but it still overwhelmed her, just like... 

_...the same...he's the same..._

She was caught up in him, lost in a kiss for the second time in her life. Her senses were filled with stars and mint and night wind, familiar in a way she found herself _welcoming_ as memories blurred with reality and she lost track of day and night, of sun-warmed concrete and cold bathroom tile, of light and dark... 

_He feels like **magic**..._

And her eyes flew open as she felt the same overpowering pull of the ocean tide she'd experienced last night--a passion she could never forget that throbbed through her once again even though she was with _Kaito_, not Kid-- 

--but he felt the same, indescribably magical and wildly sweet; the same power and thrill and _edge_ that had pulsed around the Kid and exhilarated her with its danger now swirled around Kaito like a second skin--as if a curtain had been swept aside and she was seeing _all_ of him, not just the silly magician she had known but a young man with shadows she'd never seen, with secrets she'd never grasped... 

And as she stiffened in shock and recognition he tensed; they broke apart gasping for air, her eyes welling with tears again as everything shone so wonderfully, painfully, _horrifyingly clear_-- 

"It's you," she rasped, inexplicably somewhere between collapsing in grief, leaping for joy, and screaming in fury. "It's _you_..." 

Suddenly the enigmatic thief she had kissed last night was no longer faceless. It wasn't the Kid--it was _Kaito_...who was Kid...who was her best friend...who was the boy who had just kissed her so deeply they hadn't even reached the bottom of it yet... 

He was just looking at her with an expression she couldn't name, his eyes open to her like they'd never been before--sorrowful, longing, dark, worried, _caring_... 

"You jerk! You--you _bastard!_" she cried, trying to push away from him, raging at him. "_It was **you!**_" 

She was sobbing now, beating her fists against him, trying to break away from him--but she could no more resist his strength than she could resist her own emotions. He pulled her to him again, wrapping her in his arms as if with a comforting blanket, and she couldn't hit him any more--couldn't even get away from him, but she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to because if she left now she might never touch him again. 

"Aoko...I..." His voice was so soft and low that she felt more than heard it; it was shaded with anxiety, concern, faint anguish. "I'm _sorry_..." 

_It was you..._ Her struggles faded, and she clung to him and cried, enraged and grieving beyond belief at the harrowing truth that had just crashed over her. _Kid...Kaito, it was **you**...!_

And somehow, deep beneath it all, aching relief welled like blood from a cleaned, healing wound--a blessed, soothing, soul-deep gladness that her first kiss had been shared with _him_. 

  
_The End?_

  
_**AN:** To be honest, everyone, this is about as far as it goes. One half says this is the end, and it's one of those hanging endings...other half says "NOOOO!!" and wants to think of **something** to add to this. Problem is I don't know what. Suggestions? Ideas? Demands? Anyway.....thanks for reading! _


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